


Five Months of Missing You

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Series: Stevenat Fluffy Sexcapades [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Smut, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, not entirely an established relationship, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-CATWS. Steve has just returned from a fruitless search for Bucky with Sam, and there is someone in his apartment. He has a feeling it might be Fury, only it's not. </p><p>However, he's <i>far</i> from disappointed once he realizes who it really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Months of Missing You

Courtesy of Maria Hill, Steve’s apartment in D.C. had remained untouched, though the feeling of coming home after being away for so long once he turned his key in the knob and stepped inside never hit him. Truthfully, he never felt as if this apartment was home. It was _a_ home, provided to him and furnished by S.H.I.E.L.D., but that was as deep as the title went. When Steve stepped inside this apartment, he didn’t feel like he did when he was thirteen, coming home from school and finding his mother standing at the stove boiling potatoes for that night’s dinner. _That_ was home to him; Bucky knocking on his front door not even twenty minutes later with a smirk on his face and a dirty baseball wrapped in his palm.

_Bucky._

It had been a little over five months since Steve and Sam departed D.C. in search of his former thought-to-be dead best friend. The two men had no such luck during that time. Without S.H.I.E.L.D.—or would it have been Hydra?—resources, manually tracking down a man had proven to be fairly difficult. Leads were hard to come by but when they did, they often proved to be dead-ends or false information from someone trying to pull one on Captain America. Not only that, but Bucky didn’t want to be found. In context, Steve and Sam were searching for a ghost, and even though that notion made Steve’s chest tighten in about five different ways, he knew the comparison was accurate.

He would have continued searching, but he could see that Sam was growing tired. The man _did_ have a life, after all—family and probably more friends besides Steve, as well as a distinct lack of a super-soldier serum coursing through his veins to keep him pushing his limits, and Steve realized that he was being selfish by dragging Sam on this fruitless manhunt. Nevertheless, he _would_ find Bucky; if not now, then later. Or, better yet, Bucky would probably find him.

Steve knew what it was like to want answers. And in doing so, he had learned that you needed to find them on your own. Answers couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —find you. So, with that, he also found solace. Bucky was searching for his answers and, most definitely, those answers would lead a blazing trail right back to Steve.

And he’d be waiting.

With a sigh, Steve kicked his apartment’s door shut behind him and tossed his keys on a nearby end table. During the brief pause he took to run his hand tiredly down his face and move further into the house, the sounds of a song faintly playing from his gramophone in the living area filled his ears. Steve stopped straight in his tracks, his body going stiff with alarm as he strained his ears to listen past the music and for any signs of an intruder—which, no doubt, there was—in his home. The last time a situation like this happened, Nick Fury had been waiting for him in his apartment. Also, not long after that, Nick had also been _shot_ in his apartment. Never mind the fact that he hadn’t actually died, Steve still shrugged off the bag he had slung over his shoulders and discarded it quietly at his feet anyway, bracing himself for a fight.

“I’m in the Mood for Love” by Louis Armstrong was echoing with Steve’s heartbeat in his ears as he slid along the wall separating the entranceway from the living room. He half-expected Nick to be waiting for him in the very same armchair he had been in all those months ago, but he couldn’t be too sure. All of Hydra hadn’t gone down with Pierce and S.T.R.I.KE., and some were still out there waiting, plotting, until they could find a way to bring down Captain America once and for all.

Except this person. This person didn’t seem to belong to the patient sort.

Steve inched his head ever-so-slightly forward, peering an indigo blue eye around the corner and immediately finding the curvy outline of a figure sitting with their legs crossed at the knee in the previously mentioned armchair. Despite his enhanced senses, Steve couldn’t make out the intruder’s features in the dark, but that also meant that they couldn’t see him from his place behind the wall, either. The person shifted barely an inch to the left and the moon illuminated their—Steve now realized—obviously feminine frame. However, that wasn’t what caused him to let out a breath of relief and step out from behind the wall only moments later.

No, it was the black belt with the familiar red hourglass sigil running along the person’s midsection that finally put him at ease.

Steve let out an audible sigh over the music. “You know, you could’ve just picked me up at the airport like a normal person.”

When she replied, her voice was as clear as day. Now that he was calmed, he realized that the song hadn’t even been playing that loud in the first place.

“Where’s the fun in that, Rogers?”

Steve didn’t bother turning on the lights. She had opened the windows to the apartment—probably how she got in in the first place; she liked a challenge—and the moonlight was shining into the living room in choppy narrow rectangles. Instead, he took a half-step forward and waited as she stood up from the chair, her entire face becoming illuminated by the moon.

Natasha looked the same as the last time he saw her. Even in the darkness, Steve could see that her hair was still the same coppery red he knew and, if he was being completely honest, loved. However, it wasn’t straight like the last time he saw her in the cemetery in front of Nick’s “grave”. It was wavier now, nearing on curly, though it was tamed and he knew that it was probably currently in its natural state. It was also slightly longer, hanging just below her clavicle, but she was still wearing it parted down the middle. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through the shimmering strands and instead set his eyes to inspecting the rest of her face.

The last five months, it seemed, had not been kind to Natasha. She had a small cut below her eye that was in the final stages of healing, but one that Steve saw nonetheless. There was another thumb-shaped bruise on her neck, as if someone had tried to strangle her, though it was also fading. There were stitches disappearing into the red silk at her hairline, and she was favoring her right arm slightly more than her left. All of these things were mostly faint, and if anyone else had been looking at her, they probably wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong. But this was _Steve_ , and not only was he more observant than most, he also unwittingly payed more attention when he was being confronted with Natasha Romanoff.

And, based on the injuries, she had been the target of an attack sometime within the past week.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” she said, tone soft, once she noticed the worried look that crossed Steve’s features. “You should see the other guys.”

His frown only deepened. “’ _Guys_ ’? Nat, what happened to you?”

Steve finally stepped forward to caress her face in his hand, running his thumb along the healing cut, and Natasha gently grabbed his wrist and held the digit still with her index and middle finger. His brow was furrowed with concern and his jaw was set with anger at the men that did this to her, but she _had_ gotten off lucky compared to the six Hydra agents that had been sent to assassinate her while she was taking leave in Rio de Janeiro. She had killed every single one of them, and none in the same way. Needless to say, she was happy all she had suffered from was a dislocated shoulder and a few scrapes and scratches along the way.

However, that didn’t seem to sate Steve, so Natasha soothingly ran her thumb along the back of his hand, nuzzling her jawline into his palm with a soft sigh. She lifted her own hand and cupped it just below his ear, tangling her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you,” was all she said next.

Steve let out a quiet breath from his nostrils, dropping all of his concerned questions for the time being. All that mattered, he now realized, was that she was still alive—and the fact that he was so goddamn happy to see her again.

“I missed you, too,” he replied, smiling softly down at her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Sam and all. He’s a nice guy, but…he just doesn’t compare to you.”

Natasha patted the side of his face affectionately, rolling her eyes in the same manner. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Steve.”

At this, the man in question smirked confidently and bumped his hips softly against hers. Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him again before he said, “Not even in my bed with you?”

Natasha pretended to consider—and then reject—what he was implying. She chewed her lip, knowing that it would drive him crazy. “Hm. No, I don’t think so. That mattress is _way_ too firm for me.”

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” Steve groaned half-impatiently, half-humorously as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush with his, minding her sore arm along the way. Natasha let out a surprised gasp—what had happened in these past few months that made him so direct? Not that she was complaining, but _still_ —and pressed her hands flat against his chest, her fingers slightly digging into the cotton of his T-shirt. His lips were hovering just inches above hers now, his fingertips brushing along her bottom as he toyed with the hem on her jeans’ back pockets. Natasha forced her gaze away from his wet lips and to his already-dilated eyes.

“Well, Rogers? Are you gonna kiss me or you gonna leave a girl hanging?”

She had barely gotten the sentence out when Steve bent his head down and crushed his lips heavenly against her own, slipping his tongue inside and nipping gently at her bottom lip as she opened her mouth to invite in. She let out an involuntary whimper as one of his hands snaked up her body and over her breast before resting on the side of her face, his thumb pressed firmly into her cheekbone while his other hand rested flat against her lower back. Before she knew what was happening, Steve was walking her backwards and she was being slammed softly against the wall, and again not hard enough to worsen any of her injuries. It was amazing how rough this man could be with her while also making sure not to hurt her in the process. The notion only made her kiss him harder, her breaths coming in heavy rasps and Steve’s gargantuan form blocking the moonlight, shadowing her in darkness.

It seemed like a lifetime before the two finally parted for breath, though Steve could probably go without inhaling for minutes on end due to the serum. However, Natasha was still, compared to him, a standard human being, and her lungs felt as if they were being set on pleasure-induced fire. As they separated, she utilized the brief time to push his shirt up his body before he got the hint and took care of the rest, leaving her to tug down the zipper to her uniform in record speed. Steve was out of his tee before she could even get her arms out of her sleeves, so he helped her by slipping the top part off of her shoulders—and sucking in a breath as he took sight of her breasts outlined in a simple black bra trimmed in wine-colored lace—before crouching and rolling the rest down her creamy thighs and finally, after he unzipped her boots and tossed them to the side, off her feet. Natasha stepped out of the pile of black lycra, kicking the outfit to the side before looking down at Steve still bent at her feet with hooded eyes and a slight shiver.

“If you were cold, you shouldn’t have opened all of the windows,” he hummed lowly, and despite the fact that the tone of his voice sent all of the heat spiraling straight to her core, she smacked the side of his head and chewed her lip impatiently.

“I entered that way, I can leave that way, too.” The threat was empty, and both of them knew it. One glance at the aroused look on Natasha’s face gave it all away.

“But you won’t,” Steve smirked as he bent forward and pressed his lips to her inner thigh, tugging softly on the skin there  with his teeth as he leaned back and did the same to the mirror spot on her other leg. She sucked a breath in between her teeth as he held her hips firmly in place against the wall, his hands hot and firm against her skin and his thumbs running back-and-forth along the dip of her hipbones.

As he got closer and closer to the wet spot on her black panties, Natasha realized that she _definitely_ liked cocky Steve—at least, when they were getting ready to jump each other’s bones.

However, she also sort of hated cocky Steve, because right when she thought he was going to tear her underwear off and press his mouth to her core, he skipped her entire pelvic area completely and instead leaned up to nip gently at the top of her bellybutton.

“Oh, you b—” Before the word “bastard” could get out, he stood up in a flash and swallowed it in his mouth, pressing his lips to hers again and grinding her into the wall using his hips. Cocky Steve’s cock, it seemed, was hard as a damn rock, and his length would just graze the right away over her clit if he ground at the right angle.

But he wouldn’t because, Natasha soon realized, the damn _bastard_ was teasing her.

“I hate you, you know that?” Natasha gasped breathlessly as he mouthed at the side of her neck, nibbling her collar bone before sucking her skin between his lips. She hadn’t noticed before, but somewhere down the line he had managed to pin her wrists to the wall on either side of her using his large hands, and she was about to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist when he trapped one of them between his still denim-clad thighs. Normally, this wouldn’t have been much of a problem. _Normally_ , Natasha could still rut against his thigh and be momentarily satisfied. However, Steve had anticipated this, and made it a point to clamp down just above her knee—definitely too far away for her to get some much needed friction.

Steve chuckled lowly against her neck and the reverberations caused her to tilt her head back and part her lips in a mostly soundless moan, both of the actions done against every acting will in her body. She didn’t want to give in, but goddamn was this man making it hard for her, and she was pretty sure that her nipples were pretty close to poking holes through the cups of her bra.

The serum must have also given Steve the gift of mind-reading because only seconds after that thought he snaked his hands around her back and deftly undid the clasp to her bra, letting the offending garment flutter to the ground before pressing her breasts into the curve of his hands. Natasha, again, let out an involuntary moan, and she had to bite down on her lip to restrain an even louder one once she felt Steve smirk against her skin and roll either of her nipples against the stimulating callouses on his thumbs. Steve lifted his head to take in the dreamy look on her face and the entire sight went straight to his hardened cock.

With that, he let out a low growl and bent down to wrap his arms beneath the swell of Natasha’s ass, lifting her until she finally got the hint and wrapped her thighs around his midsection. He moved them away from the wall, navigating his way to the room by memory—Steve had a damn good memory—as he worked on pressing kisses against the skin between her breasts and, finally, one of her puckered nipples. She let out a surprised gasp of air as he sucked the pale, rosy bud between his lips, flicking it with his tongue before moving on to the other. Natasha was clinging to his waist for dear life with her thighs as she pressed his face against her chest and dug her nails into his scalp, letting out low mewls and trembling in his arms as he worked her nipples expertly between his swollen lips. All too soon the moment was being torn away, and Natasha fell briefly in the air before landing on the mattress seconds later with a small bounce. She watched him through hooded eyes as he slid his belt off his waist in one quick, smooth motion and dropped his dark jeans to the floor in the same manner. His cock was outlined perfectly in his navy boxer briefs and without a second thought, Natasha sat upright and curled her fingers into the waistband, pressing her lips at the line of hair on his belly right where it disappeared beneath his underwear.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue flitted out and grazed his skin, his palms cupped firmly but not forcefully around her bare shoulders. He could feel her muscles working underneath his fingers as she dragged his briefs tantalizingly slow down his legs,  using her toes to pull them off the rest of the way as she sat on the edge of the bed and pressed wet kisses to his hip bones and thighs on either side of his erection. He let out a quiet, frustrated growl as she pointedly ignored it, because Steve Rogers wasn’t the only person in that room that knew how to tease.

Finally after what seemed like ages of nips and kisses that were intentionally being directed away from the center of his arousal, Natasha wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and pumped once. He involuntarily thrust into her hand and he could feel her smiling against his thigh as she pressed her lips to the skin there once again. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved her kisses closer and closer to his straining erection before finally mouthing up his shaft and crowning her pert lips firmly on the flushed red tip.

Steve resisted the urge to cup the back of her head and instead let out a loud groan. “N-Nat….”

The woman in question responded by narrowing her cheeks in a firm suction, pumping her fist again as Steve dug his fingertips into her shoulder blade. She went down halfway, using her hand to take care of the rest because Steve was a _damn_ big guy, before pulling off with a distinct _pop_ and wrapping her hand around his wrist to yank him down on the bed.

Their mouths collided again, hungry and searching now that both of their arousals had increased ten-fold, and Steve had Natasha pinned to the “firm” mattress in no time. As their mouths moved together, he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger before trailing his right hand further down her body and cupping her sex. It took all the strength in her body not to heave a gasp, though that strength eventually crumbled once Steve crooked a thick finger and drew lazy circles around her aching clit. Natasha clenched her thighs around his knuckles, trying desperately to give her more and he did, replacing his finger with his thumb and pressing firmly enough to draw out a small cry from between her lips while he slowly sunk his middle finger into her and pumped experimentally. She writhed beneath him, clutching desperately at the back of his neck as they kissed and her brow furrowed into a sex-induced frown  before he pointedly nudged her clit with the tip of his thumb and made her body jolt with surprise. She groaned at the notion and without a second thought he did it again, pumping his fingers in her along the way. Soon he could feel her thighs tightening around his hand and her moans and gasps for air grew erratic and more frequent as she clutched his upper arm as if her life depended on it and arched her back against his body, riding her orgasm out in full. Her hair hovered above the mattress like a fiery curtain and Steve held her body mid-air, letting her cling to him and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as she panted and came down from her high. When her breathing grew slightly normal again, he slipped his hand out from between her legs and wiped them on the sheets before cupping the back of her neck and kissing her tenderly on the lips.

And that was when in one quick, fluid motion Natasha wrapped her thighs around Steve’s waist and flipped them over so that she was sitting on his midsection with his still fully erect cock pressing firmly into her lower back. She entwined their fingers on the mattress above his blond head, leaning down with a small smile to kiss him with the same amount of gentleness he had used with her only seconds before, though this time she rolled his bottom lip between her teeth just for show before leaning up and grasping his erection in her hand. She sunk down on him shortly after that, her head tipped back, sex-frown present, and lips parted ever-so-slightly as she adjusted to his size.

Natasha bent to kiss him again before bracing herself on her elbows on either side of his head, their hands still clasped together, as she began to move her hips. It was slow, though Steve thought if she went any faster he was going to come apart right then and there, and he waited until she wound herself up again before letting out a strained groan that made her thighs twitch around his waist. Natasha began to pick up the pace, removing her hands from his own and pressing them against his chest to prop her up as she rode him long and hard. Steve grit his teeth as he felt his balls twitch, but he wanted to make his lover come undone at least one more time before he let his own climax engulf him. With that thought, Steve sat abruptly upright, wrapping his arms around Natasha’s frame so she didn’t go flying backwards and pressing his palms firmly into her spine to support him as he began thrusting up into her body. It was kind of hard with the position he was sitting up in, but he made it work by propping one arm up behind him and using the other to hold Natasha in place as the sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, as well as Steve’s groans and growls and Natasha’s gasps and whimpers, echoed around the room.

“Fuck, Steve!” Natasha moaned loudly once the man being cursed pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed, drawing out the long strokes as she shuddered in his arms and clawed frantically at the nape of his neck and top of his spine. Her breathing stopped momentarily as Steve held his thumb against her sex, her body jolting before finally going limp in his arms and burying her face in the crook of his neck, panting hard.

Natasha didn’t seem as if she was going to move any time soon, but then she felt Steve’s cock pulse inside of her and she leaned back with a small, dreamy smile on her face, eyes half-lidded despite the fact that she was now using her strength—whatever was left of it—to flip them back over so that she was lying on her back again. All it took was one dig of her heels into Steve’s butt cheeks to get him moving again, the sound she elicited from the back of her throat telling him that he could finally let go, nothing held back.

And that’s what he did. Balling the sheets in his hands on either side of her so that he didn’t risk hurting her in the throes of his orgasm, Steve damn near ripped two fist-sized chunks out of the mattress as he thrust deep and fast a few more times before gritting his teeth so hard Natasha thought he might crack a tooth. With a bitten back groan and a hiss of breath that sounded vaguely like her name, Steve’s cock twitched inside of her and filled her body with even more warmth before his entire form shuddered and slumped, collapsing exhaustedly beside her on the bed and making her roll into him as his weight tipped the mattress toward his frame. Steve was still breathing a little hard as Natasha pressed her forehead against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of her head, the both of them slowly catching their breath and waiting for their heart rates to return to normal.

After a moment, Steve rolled on to his back and pulled Natasha on top of him, where she rested her chin atop her hands on his chest. Olive eyes blinked up at him from beneath long and dark eyelashes, and Steve couldn’t resist lifting up a hand to brush stray strands of her reddened hair away from her softened, almost angelic features in the moonlight.

“I missed you,” he murmured, letting his thumb drag gently along the side of her face before brushing it slowly back-and-forth along her cheekbone. She leaned slightly into his touch and closed her eyes briefly as she relished the feel of his ever-so-familiar callouses running tenderly along her skin.

She smiled softly, leaning forward to press her lips tenderly against his. “I missed you, too.”


End file.
